


Caught in the Act

by 1863



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: There was one sure way to de-stress.





	Caught in the Act

Richard wakes up at some nebulous time of the afternoon when it’s too early to go out for dinner and too late to do any actual work. He stumbles into the living room, thanking the lord that he’s miraculously not hungover, and heads for the kitchen.

The house is silent now. He thinks the others must have left that morning; he knows some of them have language lessons or costume fittings scheduled today. Last night probably wasn't the best time for a piss-up but they’re in a new city on the other side of the world and they’re goddamn dwarves, so “just one drink” soon turned into “how many have I had again?”

Richard doesn’t really know how they ended up at his house, but it’s a measure of how giddy he’d been that he hadn’t really minded. Aidan had been there, all curly hair and bright wide smile and easy laugh, and one look from him was all took, really, for Richard to agree to join them.

It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid. He’s a grown man, after all, past 40 and poised on the brink of really hitting it big. Forty-one year-old men about to star in one of the biggest movies in the world should not develop silly crushes on their much younger costars. No matter how pretty or clingy or charming they may be.

Then again, he supposes there’s no harm in a little fantasising. It’s not as though anything is actually going to happen. He’d never make a move and Aidan—well. Aidan could have anyone he wanted. 

Richard’s been tired lately, what with the long hours at boot camp and constantly second-guessing himself on set, and now this thing with Aidan just added to his exhaustion. 

His eyes flicker over to the television, to the media player he’d brought over from the UK. 

There was one sure way to de-stress.

He’s alone now and for once, he doesn’t have anything scheduled till tomorrow afternoon.

Why not?

Richard sits down on the couch and flicks the TV on, sets up the player. He scrolls through the menu, clicking through folders and subfolders and sub-subfolders, all with purposely vague names, until he finds what he’s looking for.

_Being Human, Series 1, Episode 3._

He presses play and Richard only-half watches, mostly preoccupied with watching the way Mitchell moves, the way he sounds. Richard’s never really been one for vampires or werewolves or anything like that, but Aidan is good in this, really good, in more ways than one.

He watches Mitchell have a conversation with his flatmates, a smile in his eyes and on his lips, and lets the accent wash over him.

Richard reaches up and unbuttons his shirt, letting it hang open. It’s a little cool but he’s feeling warm already, just from the sight and sound of Aidan onscreen. Not taking his eyes off the television, Richard runs his hands over his chest, palm roughly scraping his nipples. He gasps a little, then rubs at them more purposefully, rolling them between forefinger and thumb.

He pauses to suck at his fingers for a moment, wetting them thoroughly, then returns to caressing chest. The new slickness has Richard moaning, arching up into his own touch, and as he watches Aidan’s mouth onscreen he imagines that it’s Aidan’s lips pressed against his skin, that it’s Aidan’s tongue stroking at his nipples, and not just his own fingers.

Richard moves one hand lower, rubbing small circles into his stomach. The Aidan onscreen is kissing someone now, and Richard’s hips jerk as he thinks about what that would feel like—Aidan’s warm lips, Aidan’s tongue moving against his, licking into his mouth. Richard moans again, runs a hand over the inside of his thighs, other hand still working at a nipple.

He shifts in his seat, breathing growing uneven. He lets a hand graze the front of his jeans and has to close his eyes; Mitchell is arguing with someone now, eyes dark and intense, and Richard wonders if that’s what Aidan looks like when he has sex, imagines what it would feel like to have that intensity turned on him.

Richard continues to palm his cock, getting harder by the second, making small noises at the back of his throat as he listens to Mitchell’s voice. Only when it starts to get really uncomfortable does he stop, fingers trailing along the waistband of his jeans before unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down.

He opens his eyes and looks at the screen again, and now Mitchell is biting his lip, looking torn. A fantasy image comes to Richard’s mind of Aidan kneeling between his legs, that same expression on his face, lip caught between his teeth, and Richard groans, pushing his jeans and underwear down just far enough to let his aching cock out.

Mitchell is with some girl now, another vampire, and Richard’s seen this episode enough times to know how the scene is going to pan out. The memory of it is enough to make him pant, and Richard envelopes his cock in a tight fist, head falling back against the settee as he watches her suck on his wrist, Mitchell’s face twisting in pleasure-pain, mouth falling open, looking for all the world like he’s about to come.

Richard strokes himself in a slow steady rhythm, hips rolling, breathing hard. He closes his eyes when the scene ends, lets his imagination take over. Thinks about what it would take to make Aidan look that way, what things he might like, what he would sound like. Imagines running his tongue along Aidan’s neck, flicking it against his nipples. Moving his mouth along the curve of Aidan’s shoulders, sinking his teeth into a bicep. Richard licks his lips, stroking faster.

His eyes flicker open again when he hears another familiar scene start, and Richard’s mouth goes dry at sight of Mitchell in nothing but his underwear, all that olive skin and surprisingly muscular frame half-covered in blood. Richard tightens his grip, hand flying over his leaking cock, and Richard wants it so badly he can almost feel it; feel the hot press of that firm chest against his, that beautiful mouth moving against his own.

Richard runs his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome. He teases the tip, circles the ridge, and moans, deep in his throat, eyes falling shut again as he thinks of Aidan’s lips, his hands, his eyes.

Richard cups his balls with his other hand, rolling them in his fingers, then moves lower, fingertip pushing against the space behind them.

“God,” Richard groans, listening to Mitchell’s voice. He presses again, harder this time, eyes screwed shut, and his mouth falls open, stroking even faster, hips moving uncontrollably, fucking up into his fist.

“Richard,” Mitchell gasps. 

But—wait, what?

Richard’s eyes fly open, and Aidan is staring at him from the hallway, eyes wide, breathing hard.

“Aidan,” Richard moans, and he knows he should be embarrassed, should apologise and make some excuse, but he’s so far gone now that any shame is just a vague thought and the only thing on his mind is Aidan, Aidan, Aidan.

Richard can’t stop his hips from thrusting, can’t stop the hand on his cock from moving, and he’s so close, wants Aidan so intensely that he can’t look away from his face, can’t turn away from his shocked gaze.

Richard presses against his perineum again lets out another low, needy moan, eyelids fluttering.

“ _Aidan_.”

And suddenly Aidan is there, pushing his hands out of the way, replacing them with his mouth, and it’s all wet hot heat and incredible suction, and Richard’s hands tangle into Aidan’s impossible curls, trying desperately not to fuck into that perfect mouth.

 

“Oh, god,” Richard gasps, as Aidan swallows him down. His cock hits the back of Aidan’s throat and Richard cries out, bucks uncontrollably, and Aidan chokes a little but mercifully doesn’t stop.

Richard is a hair’s breadth away from coming, and it would be so easy, so easy to let go and let it happen. He’s imagined often enough, Aidan sucking him dry, but he doesn’t want it like this, doesn’t want the first time to be a quick desperate blowjob.

With the last shred of his self-control, Richard tugs on Aidan’s hair until he’s pulling away, Richard’s cock falling out of his mouth with a distinct pop.

“What?” Aidan asks, and the hoarseness of his voice pushes Richard to the edge again. “You can come in my mouth, I don’t mind.”

“Jesus,” Richard swears, and takes a few deep breaths to steady himself.

Aidan just watches him, still kneeling on the floor.

“I want—” Richard begins, then falters. That’s pretty much the whole truth of it, really. He _wants_. All of it.

And somehow, Aidan seems to understand. His eyes soften, and he stands up and cups Richard’s jaw. Bracing himself on Richard’s shoulders, Aidan leans down and kisses him.

It’s not sweet or slow, it can’t be, not when they’re both so close to coming. Richard grabs Aidan by the back of the head and pulls, and Aidan all but falls into his lap. His jeans rubs against Richard’s straining cock and he has to break the kiss with a gasp, the friction unbearably good.

He can feel Aidan’s own cock against his stomach, hard and hot even through his trousers, and Richard’s fingers scrabble to undo the button as Aidan leans down and kisses him again.

Richard’s got an excellent imagination but his fantasies are nothing compared to this. Aidan’s lips are smooth but firm, his talented tongue licking at his teeth, sliding against his own tongue in slick, desperate movements.

Richard finally gets Aidan’s cock out and wraps his fingers around it, stroking hard and fast, and Aidan moans into his mouth, hips jerking. The movement makes Aidan’s jeans-covered arse rub against Richard’s own cock again, and he returns the moan, tightening his fist.

It’s Aidan’s turn to break the kiss, and he presses his forehead against Richard’s shoulder, breath harsh against Richard’s neck.

“I want you in me,” he pants, and Richard has to close his eyes, balls already rising at the mere thought of it.

“I don’t—don’t have any condoms,” he says, stuttering a little, heart beating too fast. 

“Back pocket,” Aidan says, and Richard runs his hands over Aidan’s arse for a moment before digging into the pocket, finding a packet of lube in there too.

Aidan stands just long enough to tug off his jeans and underwear, not bothering with his shirt, Richard rolling on the condom as he watches. Aidan’s movements are uncharacteristically clumsy in his haste to get them off and Richard’s mouth waters as he sees Aidan’s cock exposed, hard and heavy.

He clambers back into Richard’s lap and kisses him again, hands at either side of Richard’s head, rubbing himself on Richard’s stomach. Richard’s still half dressed, shirt hanging open, jeans pushed down just past his arse, and somehow, it makes him even harder, the fact that Aidan can’t even wait until they’re all the way naked.

Richard feels Aidan’s bare arse shift against his cock and groans, breaking the kiss with a sharp gasp. Aidan grabs the packet of lube and pushes it against Richard’s chest, fingers shaking.

Richard tears it open, slicking his fingers and his cock, and slides one finger into the cleft of Aidan’s arse, seeking his entrance.

Aidan’s eyes fall shut, breath hitching as Richard pushes inside.

“God, you’re so tight,” Richard says, voice rough. He thrusts his finger in and out, watching Aidan’s face, and when Aidan nods, Richard adds a second one.

“Fuck,” Aidan gasps. “S’good,” he adds, starting to move, and Richard bites his lip, so close to coming as he watches Aidan fuck himself on his fingers. Richard adds another finger, curling it, and the noise Aidan makes when he finds what he was looking for has Richard’s hips jerking, cock twitching.

“It’s enough,” Aidan gasps. “Please. C’mon, I’m ready.” He rises up a little, takes hold of Richard’s cock, and guides it in.

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” Richard chokes out, when he’s finally all the way inside. He’s never felt anything so tight, so hot; it’s so good it’s almost painful.

“God, Richard,” Aidan pants. “Move, move, _please_ —” His mouth descends on Richard’s neck, sucking at his pulse, and Richard groans, hips jerking uncontrollably, fucking up into that intense tight heat.

“Yes,” Aidan hisses, fingers tightening in Richard’s hair, still mouthing at his neck. His lips move to Richard’s ear and teeth scrape his earlobe and then all at once it’s too much, Aidan bouncing in his lap, shamelessly fucking himself on Richard’s cock, his moans obscene in Richard’s ear, his cock rubbing over Richard’s stomach. Richard bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, hands digging into Aidan’s waist, hips thrusting madly, and comes harder than he ever has in his life.

“Fuck,” Aidan moans, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes are closed, mouth open, and he looks nothing like Mitchell—it’s just Aidan, all Aidan. Richard grabs his cock and strokes, hard and tight, and it’s only a moment before Aidan’s face twists and he gasps, coming and coming and coming, spilling out hot and thick over Richard’s hand and belly.

**

It’s not until afterwards, when they’ve cleaned themselves up and had a surprisingly not-so-awkward conversation about where to go from here, that Aidan brings it up.

“So,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “ _Being Human_. Good wanking material, is it?”

“Fuck off,” Richard says with a small smile, trying and failing to stop a blush.

“Oh, don’t worry. Mine’s worse, believe me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can’t blame me, really.” Aidan grins impishly. “You do get tied up a lot in _Robin Hood_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kinkmeme.


End file.
